


Somehow with you in mind | A Wilde week 2020 | Day 4 | Death

by Sevik



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Day 4, M/M, idea came before 175 sorry, spoilers for 174 and up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevik/pseuds/Sevik
Summary: Day 4 - "To live is the rarest thing in the world."Live | Death | SurvivalThere's a way to get them back. And Zolf is the one to get Oscar.What does Oscar's afterlife look like?(Romans, countrymen... I post late. I am sorry!)
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	Somehow with you in mind | A Wilde week 2020 | Day 4 | Death

Getting their friends back wasn't that easy. Apparently they were just about settling in in their afterlives and, while reaching them was still possible, there was a choice involved from the recently deceased. There was also the very real danger of the messenger getting lost. They doubted any of them would want to come back what with the world ending and all, but they also knew they had to try. That's what friends were for, after all.  
Nobody said that Zolf was the best choice. But nobody questioned that Zolf would be the one to go ask Wilde either. They'd spent a lot of time together - almost 18 months - , first just the two of them, then the ever-growing team. There was a... friendship, of sorts. Less friction, more trust.

\--------------------------------------------------

When Zolf came to his senses after the ritual, the first thing he noticed was how light he felt. Sure, there was still the impending danger of their world ending, but everything seemed just a little better and the future looked a little brighter.

He was standing in a cobblestone street, empty though it did not feel abandoned. The houses and shops around him looked lived in and he spied moving shadows and flickering lights through the windows. It wasn't dark yet, but the sun was about to set. 

It all looked vaguely familiar, as if Zolf had been there before - a street at the outskirts of somewhere and some time between a very small town or just a really busy village. In a way, the place reminded him of home. It was definitely European and, more precisely, definitely somewhere on the British Isles. The signs on the only streetlamp had latin letters, but Zolf had trouble reading them - until they shifted before his eyes and he could tell that it was gaelic. Huh.

Zolf blinked and tried to shake the dizzy feeling that had overcome him. Small parts were still changing and rearranging, subtle shifts and additions took place before his eyes. It was fine as long as he did not try to look too closely, but now that he was aware it was happening, it was hard not to. 

Seeking a fixed point, he caught sight of an older woman, tending a garden in a well cared for front yard. She looked up and waved at him before returning to planting some seedlings. She did not shift. In fact, the entire house seemed to sit almost perfectly still and felt familiarly done. Finished. Zolf hummed. If he didn't know any better he would say that it looked a little too humble for Wilde, but it wouldn't hurt to check it out. 

As he drew closer, he noticed there was more activity in the front yard than he had expected. An older gentleman, dressed in a plain suit, was sitting on a bench just in front of the house. At his feet, an old, grey dog lay, resting on the ground. The book the man had held had tumbled from his hands onto the bench and the man's head was resting gently against the stone wall behind him.

"Just let them have their nap.", the older lady said and smiled. Immediately Zolf knew she must either be Wilde's mother or grandmother. Her age was hard to tell, but she felt old. Her smile ran in the family. "Oscar's inside. You one of his friends?"

"Oh! Yes. Can I just-?" He motioned to the front door, still closed, and thought she had a lovely Irish accent.

"Sure, sure, dear!"

He flashed her a small smile of his own and made his way through. The inside did match the humble outside. The place looked, for Zolf's lack of eloquent words, nice. Cozy. Without thinking, he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the wardrobe next to the entrance. There was even a simple weapon stand, though it was empty except for some arrows stuck in a well-tended to quiver. If he hadn't been preoccupied with taking in his surroundings, he might have noticed that some of the hooks hung lower, allowing him to hang his coat without any contortions. 

There was a wooden set of stairs, leading up and a door next to it, likely into a cellar. A fireplace must be lit somewhere, as he picked up the scent of burning wood. It reminded him of his own home, but with a lot of Wilde's charm literally strewn around. There was a lot of clutter on various shelves and small side tables. Even a bottled ship and a set of lock picks.

He immediately spied pictures and photographs hung on the walls, some taken from newspapers, others painted. Not one for snooping, he did not look closer at any of them. Some looked strangely familiar though, even from a distance. And wasn't that a clipping from the article about Kew's Garden?

The living room to the left was spacious, with enough plush, comfortable looking chairs to host a small and relaxed party. The center table featured an intriguing metal globe, half opened to reveal some turkish delights inside. A bright, pink scarf hung over one of the larger chairs and Zolf chuckled, trying to picture Wilde wearing that one, even though he knew it wasn't meant for him. At the very end of the living room were two large, oaken shelves, filled to the brim with books. Even without taking a closer look, Zolf could pinpoint an entire collection of Campbell novels and he smiled. 

It was apparent that Wilde wasn't in the living room and, as far as he could see and hear, maybe not even on the ground floor. Something told him he'd have to go upstairs. 

Two steps into the hallway and he could see the door to his right ajar, leading into the kitchen. Zolf had to stop and really look. No way this was Wilde's kitchen. Not only was the entire setup a bit too low for a man his height, but also the man could live off bread and tea for days despite his hedonistic nature. It wasn't so much that he couldn't or didn't know how to cook, it just had never been his priority. 

Already a hand on the handle, he took a halfstep back. No - no he didn't want to snoop. It wasn't right. He had to find Wilde. 

Maybe, he thought, regarding the tasteful tiles and workspaces, the few pans and pots and cups, the tea cans and the spice rack, maybe one day he'd have a chance to cook something nice for Wilde again. 

As he turned away from the door, he saw that something sharp was stuck in the wooden beam on the way upstairs. It took him a moment, but there was no mistaking it - it was Sasha's adamantine dagger. Frozen, he wondered if that meant Sasha was here, too? Had she found a way to Wilde? Or he to her? 

The approaching footsteps caught him off guard, the legs suddenly appearing bit by bit as Oscar came down the stairs. Zolf no longer remembered any of the things he'd wanted to say, nothing came to mind anymore.

"Zolf? You've got to be kidding me. Already?" A pause. "That's not good. Not good at all. With both of us gone, how will they continue?" He came down the last steps, wringing his hands but with a smile on his beautiful, unmarred face anyway. "Or have you finished the mission? Time here is almost impossible to track... Feels like only yesterday..." Wilde joked. Of course, he joked.

"'bout right." Zolf blinked. Betrayed by his own voice. That's what sadness and grief would reduce you to.

"Oh..." Wilde stopped smiling.

That made it worse. The audacity of the man (who'd just died a horrifying, painful death) to regard him with pity and compassion. 

"Well!" He clapped his hands and looked around briefly. "You're here now so... I think you'll like what I did with the place."

"Oscar, I really-" Zolf sighed, gathering his words - gathering himself. "I'm not a tourist."

"Of course not!" Wilde looked so happy for a moment, perfectly content and a small giggle escaped him.

"I'm still alive." Zolf paused when he saw Wilde tense up again, his expression shifting but still, he looked ... happy? "And we found someone who can help us bring you back. And the others, of course. The only question remaining is: Do you want to or not? Because nobody is going to force you."

Wilde took another look around, his eyes lingering on the kitchen. "I suppose..." And finally, he smiled again, heartwarming and real. "this place isn't going anywhere. And it's no use, all this space for myself."

Zolf hadn't even thought about that. Wilde was right. It was a lot of space for only one person. Then again, wasn't Wilde used to the more posh things in life?

Taking Zolf's puzzled look for a different kind of confusion, Wilde continued: "That's a yes, Mr. Smith. Yes, I would very much like to go back with you."

Zolf nodded. "That's... That's good. Honestly. - Thank you." He felt a blush creeping up from his neck. He wasn't good at this... this feelings-thing. Really. "Don't know if I could do it without you."

Wilde took a deep breath, his eyes drinking in Zolf only to pause before the dwarf's core. "I know.", he said quietly, followed by a louder: "Now just let me get my cloak and we'll be right out!"

**Author's Note:**

> Let's play a game: Spot all the people that Oscar wants to be there.


End file.
